


bones of abandoned futures

by meronicavars



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Dark, Halloween, M/M, Who shot Robert?, excessive use of bats as a metaphor, strangers on a train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26894419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meronicavars/pseuds/meronicavars
Summary: Ross finally comes out the backdoor, holding a baby monitor, and quietly closes the door."Hey, was just putting Mozza down," he says. "What's up?"Aaron's eyes are stuck on the baby monitor, the mention of Ross's son, and feels like an idiot. What a dickhead."Yeah, I, sorry..." he trails off, trying to find something to say other than 'hey, were you serious about killing Robert?' and coming up empty.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden, Ross Barton/Aaron Dingle
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	bones of abandoned futures

**Author's Note:**

> so, first of all, ever since i witnessed emmerdale pull a strangers on a train and do it _horribly_ , i was like i have to make this homoerotic. and like obviously it couldn't be homoerotic with andy because he is not woke or sexy and also just unbearable imo, BUT i also really feel like if aaron was involved it would like really level the playing field for aaron and robert which IS sexy. and also the great aaross bait of autumn 2014 haunts me, ergo... aaross strangers on a train who shot robert canon divergence. 
> 
> thanks to kay for saying that i have the biggest brain for this idea, and thanks to drea for kicking my ass to write this even while we're literally writing a multi-chapter fic that is currently upwards of 30k words in our google doc.
> 
> also because unfortunately it has to be said: i'm not taking this out of the robron tag okay, robron is obviously important in this fic even if it isn't the primary pairing.
> 
> [series playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HRhFhJ8zTD4mrEUfcZZXG?si=2TPpDVceTJ2HXgavKekT8w)

The thought comes to Aaron half-formed.

Ross's tongue is in his arse, so it's not a serious thought at the time. He's too blissed out for it to be anything but a light musing before it floats away after he comes. It's completely out of his mind by the time he turns around, flips Ross on his back on the messy sheets and sucks him off. Ross is loud when he fucks, mouthy and appreciative until he comes and pulls Aaron up to kiss the taste of himself off Aaron's tongue. It's impossible to think about it now—it's barely an idea anyway.

Still, life would be easier if Robert just dropped dead.

* * *

The proposition is less of a proposition and more a meaningless utterance of words passed between two men lying in the afterglow of meaningless sex. Sweat cooling and come drying and breaths slowing and quieting until all that's left to do is leave or talk.

"I want him dead, you know," Ross says, because he likes to talk. Aaron likes to leave, but they have Dale View empty for a few more hours and if Aaron can coax another orgasm out of Ross, then he'll put up with Ross talking for the time being. 

It's easier to tell secrets to someone you don't really care about. It's easier to read someone's mind after you've had sex with them.

"I know," Aaron says, because everyone knows. No matter how much he's put on this forgiveness act, this is Ross and he loves to hold a grudge. In all fairness, what Pete did was proper fucked up. The grudge is probably warranted and Aaron _understands_. "I feel the same."

Ross scoffs or snorts or something indistinguishable in-between and turns onto his side, elbow up, temple resting against his fist. "You want Pete dead?"

"No, Robert, ya pillock," Aaron says, squeezing his eyes shut and stretching out, arms going behind his head. 

He feels Ross's hand suddenly on his chest, trailing down over his scars to rest low on his abdomen, and Aaron blinks his eyes open to look at Ross.

"I'll kill him for ya, babe."

 _Babe_ . Aaron hates it, but he allows it. If Robert had called him _babe,_ he likely would've punched him in the face and called it a day. That isn't to say he wouldn't have gone back for more, obviously; he'd gone crawling back enough times over worse things. Things that tear at his insides and he hates to think about, but if he just puts the blame on Robert now—if he just wishes he'd up and die already—it's easier not to hurt himself. It's a little bit easier to breathe. 

When Ross calls Aaron "babe", it means nothing. He calls everyone "babe", like in the way Charity and Debbie call everyone "babe". Sometimes he's teasing. It's affectionate, but it's meaningless. They're not friends, they're not enemies, they're just fucking, and Ross calls him "babe" because he can. From Robert, "babe" would not have been so full of nothing, because Robert had loved him. It would not have been affectionate, but it would have been loaded. Robert never needed to call him by a nickname to get his point across and point a gun at his head.

"Shut up."

"You bump off Pete and I'll take Robert," Ross says. "Win, win. No one would ever know. I mean, why would _I_ wanna kill Robert?"

"Everyone wants to kill Robert," Aaron says. "He's fucked over the entire village."

"No one more than you," Ross says, moving to straddle one of Aaron's legs and hover over him, hands at either side of his hips.

"Tell that to Chrissie," Aaron says, then—"Look, you're not here to talk. If you wanna go again—"

Ross kisses him, sucks on his bottom lip, and starts to slowly stroke his dick to get him hard again.

"Kinda hot though, right?" Ross pulls back, palm still dragging along the underside of Aaron's dick. "Killing for each other?"

Aaron's hands flex against Ross's shoulders as the warmth in his belly begins to swell, and he bends his knee up so Ross can rub against his thigh.

"That's what gets you off, does it? Murder?"

"They'd deserve it, wouldn't they?" Ross drags his teeth down Aaron's neck and Aaron gasps and bucks up.

"We'd be no better than them."

"We are a million times better than them," Ross growls and claims Aaron's lips again.

The proposition is forgotten in Ross's deft hands and chapped lips and the slide of his dick against Aaron's inner thigh and hip bone, and when Aaron comes his head is blissfully empty.

* * *

The plan sticks in Aaron's mind on the day he sees bats. Fucking bats! He swears he saw their dark shadows flap their way through the trees. He saw them from where he's standing on the deck of the cricket pavilion. Black flickers amongst falling dead leaves, illuminated by the afterthought of a harvest moon. 

October really is nothing to write home about, but bats sure fucking are. 

Bats!

"Did you see them?" He says, still staring out into the night, past the cricket field, into the trees, into the spaces the bats have left.

"See what?" Ross asks and Aaron isn't sure how he got there, but he doesn't mind. At least _someone_ is there.

Logically, Aaron knows there are bats in the Dales. People see them all the time—Aaron sees them all the time—but this feels...different.

He looks at Ross, feeling like there are bats zooming about in his stomach now too.

"Nothing," Aaron shakes his head. The bats don't matter, Ross has probably seen enough of them out here to last a lifetime. "I need to get home."

He could stay. He could push Ross inside the cricket pavilion and snog the face off him; joke about how this was the one place they didn't fuck the last time they were doing this. He could tell him about the bats, draw Ross into a stupid conversation about the various bat species of the Yorkshire Dales. Ross would tease him, Aaron would scoff, they would both roll their eyes; and then they would scramble for each other, desperate to get something out of the other they can't get from someone else.

Honesty. There's no questions as to what they are or what they're doing. There's a simmering hostility and anger that could either boil over into passion or aggression at any moment they're together, but there is a distinct clarity between the two of them that means they never have to ask what the outcome would be. There's no beating around the bush—hasn't been since they'd first met and spent months at each other's throats until finally Charity locked them in that barn and they had to fight, to talk, to fuck. Since then, they know what the other needs and they don't pretend with each other. Too alike to even try to put on a show without the other seeing through the façade, but different enough to keep things interesting and to keep coming back for more. And it all makes it easier with Ross. He knows Aaron's body and scars, how to make him tick, and how to make him fall apart and come so hard he can forget Robert.

And if Ross letting Aaron back in over and over is anything to go by, Aaron imagines he's been able to make him forget Debbie too.

There is a lot unspoken between them. Silence that speaks volumes really. So, when Aaron says he needs to go home, Ross simply nods and leads him down to the grass and back towards the Woolie. Ross doesn't stay for a drink; instead deciding to head home himself and probably lose at a video game to the brother he's pretending to have made peace with.

The brother who beat him half to death and buried him alive. _Jesus_ , Aaron really doesn't blame Ross for wanting Pete dead. Aaron isn't really someone who dwells on the intricacies of the human condition if he can help it, but it does take a uniquely tapped individual to take your brother into the woods, cover him up with tree branches because you think you'd killed him and leave him with minimal chances of his body being found. As if he was nothing. 

Robert at least wanted Katie to be found and taken care of and respected after her death, even if he did decide to lie and scheme his way around his guilt. Katie hadn't been _nothing_ to Robert—she had been someone he loved once. Ross was left like he'd truly meant nothing to Pete. 

Bitter are the wars between brothers, it seems. Aaron is loath to admit that he can see forgiving Robert for the accident, but Pete meant to hurt Ross and when he thought the worst had come, he'd thrown him away like Ross was trash.

Aaron knows Ross isn't perfect—has seen it enough times himself—but he's not a bad person. He isn't _Robert_.

As if on cue, Robert waltzes into the back room of the pub where Aaron's lounging on the sofa. He's googling bats in Yorkshire, but he's not really been looking at his phone, too lost in thought.

Robert pauses to look down at Aaron, amusement in his raised eyebrows. "Other people live here, y'know," he says, nodding at where Aaron's feet are thrown up across the sofa.

"You don't," Aaron replies, disinterestedly, but he still sits up and swings his feet down to the floor.

"Don't sound too disappointed," Robert says.

"Do one."

"This is my family's pub, I can come here whenever I want," Robert says, and that amusement in his eyebrows is still there when Aaron looks back at him, the memory of Robert saying that in a fake argument at the start of the affair. A time when Aaron thought Robert was trying to change, a time when Aaron thought he'd caught remorse in Robert's face and voice, in his actions. Robert's teasing him now, searching for nostalgia in Aaron's slumped form on the sofa.

Aaron chooses not to react and does so long enough that Robert finally ignores him and goes to putter about in the kitchen nook. Aaron goes back to looking at his phone, but decides to move on from the bats. He has to move on from the bats, they're really not that big of a deal.

Aaron and Robert manage to ignore each other for a while, even occupying the same space where whichever way they turn the other will be there. Robert puts the kettle on and rummages through tea boxes until he settles on one; Aaron puts the telly on and flips through channels until he stops on a naff 80s flick he can't remember the name of. Aaron hears Robert chuckle at a particularly heinous attempt at comedic dialogue bursting from the television, and Aaron wants to punch himself when the sound makes his heart swell. Another stupid memory comes flooding in: Home Farm at Easter in Robert's bed, eating copious amounts of chocolate, watching shit films, and talking and laughing and fucking; and being so disgustingly, stupidly, thoughtlessly in love that Aaron thought it would never stop.

Aaron wishes the deluge of thoughts would stop now. He half wishes, too, that Robert would come sit down beside him and slide into the person Aaron thought he was and thought he could be. He misses him and he knows he shouldn't. He hates him, but not enough.

When Robert does settle in beside Aaron, handing him a mug of tea made up just the way Robert knows he likes it. (He must get the memories too. Robert had loved him, hadn't he?) 

Aaron throws him a silent thank you, but continues to try to stay focused on the screen in front of him. Don't give Robert an inch, just drink your brew, keep your eyes ahead. He can feel Robert watching him though, eyes boring into his cheekbone and probably blinking down to his lips on the rim of the mug, and back up to try and catch his eyes.

Robert can make out as much as he wants that he's straight, that Aaron was a mistake, that he doesn't still want him, but if Aaron could see through Robert before everything, he sure as shit can see through him now. He sets his mug down on the coffee table next to Robert's own steaming cuppa and then turns to look at him and hold his gaze.

"Stop staring at me," Aaron says, and Robert is clearly refusing to look away. Instead, he's preening. 

"I'm not staring at you," he says, a proud grin spreading across his face.

The bats in Aaron's stomach start flapping hard against his lungs again, making it hard to breathe normally, making his breaths quicken embarrassingly. Robert shouldn't still make him feel like this, he shouldn't still matter, but Aaron's body reacts before his brain can stop him from the quick shuffle to the side and swinging his leg over Robert's lap. When Aaron straddles him, Robert is ready, taking his weight and bringing his hands around to grasp at Aaron's bum and pull him closer. He opens his mouth to Aaron's tongue as Aaron presses his thumbs against his jaw, and they're kissing and kissing and kissing, lips pliant against one another as if they'd never stopped doing this.

It isn't that Aaron _wants_ Robert back, because he doesn't, but he _would_ take him back. And he is, allowing Robert to hold him and pull at his shirt and dig his fingers into his arse. Aaron knows he initiated this, but there's a power in knowing Robert hasn't stopped wanting him. There's a power in knowing he made Robert go crazy, fuck up his life, and still he can't just push Aaron away. Robert must hate him just as much as he hates Robert, the way he's biting at his lips, sucking on his tongue, raking blunt nails along the skin of his lower back.

"This doesn't mean anything," Aaron breathes into Robert's open mouth. "I don't want you back."

"I didn't ask," Robert says, but it's more of a groan as Aaron presses his palm against the front of Robert's jeans and the line of the zipper digs into Robert's dick.

"I'm serious, Robert." His hand is still moving and he takes pride in the way Robert bites his lip to suppress a moan, but the drag of his teeth turn it into a low whine. Aaron has to kiss his bottom lip, bite into Robert's teeth marks and then lick over them. "You tried to kill Paddy." He undoes the button on Robert's jeans. "You tried to kill me." He slides Robert's zipper down. "This is all you get."

"Never wanted anything more, did I?" Robert says, and Aaron licks the lie out of his mouth. "But you forgot something." Aaron huffs a breath across Robert's jaw as he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of Robert's underwear. "I tried to kill Chas too." Aaron's hand stills.

The bats in his stomach rise and push out through his mouth and begin swarming around his head. He can't see, he can't think although his mind is swimming; all he can do is scramble off Robert and get out of there, tripping over his laces as he goes, slamming the door so loud he can feel it rattling his bones. He is vaguely aware of Robert calling out his name, his voice echoing in his ears out the door and through the village, before Aaron realizes he's following him.

They're on the path around the park, Robert begging Aaron to stop and listen. His footsteps are loud behind Aaron, deafening, his voice is venomous as per but so desperate in that way only Robert can be.

"Let me explain," Robert says, his grovelling sounding the furthest thing from earnest.

Aaron nearly slips on the wet grass as he whips around and gets up in Robert's face, feeling deaf and dumb, seeing only red. "What is there to explain, Robert? You tried to kill me mum."

"She was going to tell Chrissie about us," Robert says. "I was scared."

"And that's your solution then? Murder?" Aaron feels like he's going insane, laughter bubbling out of him, bitter and angry and feeling oh so stupid for still letting Robert matter to him after everything. He scoffs. "I don't know why I'm even surprised. That's exactly what you did to Katie."

"Katie was an accident," Robert says, teeth grit, jaw clenched. "You know that."

"But Paddy nearly drowning in a grain pit wasn't," Aaron spits. "I'm guessing me mum weren't neither, but I can't trust you to just be straight with me, can I?"

Robert takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, and Aaron can see through his breath in the chilly October air how remorseless Robert is. He thinks he's justified. He thinks he's _right_.

"I didn't _want_ to, Aaron," Robert says. "And I called it off as soon as I could, I promise. I stopped it."

"Yeah, but you were still gonna do it, weren't ya?" Aaron says. "You make me sick. I have to go."

"Aaron, please, stop." Robert stumbles forward, grabbing at Aaron's arm. "You're not gonna tell anyone, are ya?" 

He's not even thinking, Aaron just swiftly pulls away and rears back and gets a solid punch in with his free arm. "Don't ever touch me again," he says, his fist unclenching to point at Robert's bleeding nose. "I _will_ end you."

Robert holds his face, saying nothing, but nods.

"And no," Aaron adds, a humourless gag of laughter in the back of his throat. "I won't tell anyone. It's embarrassing enough people knowing I loved ya. Don't need this to add to it. Sick of people pitying me. So, go on. Do one."

He turns and leaves Robert standing in the inky black of the park with his breaths pushing out of his bruised and bloodied mouth in ragged white plumes like smoke. Like all the bad in him could be filtered out of his lungs like carbon dioxide, but evil always stays and clings like tar. It becomes cancerous and infected and the best way to stop it is to cut it out.

Aaron is at the backdoor to Dale View within seconds, pulling out his phone and texting Ross to meet him. He leans his back against the wall and waits, feeling like a mug as the minutes go by and Ross still hasn't come out or texted back.

Ross finally comes out the backdoor, holding a baby monitor, and quietly closes the door.

"Hey, was just putting Mozza down," he says. "What's up?"

Aaron's eyes are stuck on the baby monitor, the mention of Ross's son, and feels like an idiot. What a dickhead. 

"Yeah, I, sorry..." he trails off, trying to find something to say other than 'hey, were you serious about killing Robert?' and coming up empty. 

"Just can't keep away, can ya?" Ross offers, a grin spreading across his face as he crosses his arms and goes to lean against the wall with Aaron.

Aaron scoffs, smiles, rolls his eyes and says, "Yeah. You're irresistible, you."

"Don't I know it."

"Debbie's letting you have him now then?" Aaron says, thinking idle chat is definitely the way to go now, thinking maybe he'll get a tongue down his throat and hand down his pants for a little bit to make him forget why he came here in the first place. "Moses?"

"She had a callout run late," Ross says, shrugging and bumping Aaron's shoulder in the process. "I offered."

"Well, he is your son."

"Yeah…" Ross lets out a long breath. "Mad, innit?"

"That _you_ have a son?" Aaron says. "Yeah, you're practically a kid, yourself."

"Ta for that," Ross says. "Just what everyone wants to hear from the bloke they're shagging."

"Well, you're not exactly emotionally mature, are ya?"

"Says the village's head drama queen."

"Bit homophobic."

"But you're not arguing."

"I guess I could've handled things better this past year."

"Look at us," Ross says, gesturing between the two of them, a fond smile on his lips as he leans his head closer to Aaron's. "Craziest lads in the village. Don't tell Robert though. We have to let him think he's still got the gold."

"I saw him tonight." Aaron looks down at his feet and Ross's arm presses to his arm and there the bats are again, flying up through his ribs and hanging on his heart. "Why I'm here, really."

"What? Need a blowie, 'cause you still want him?" Aaron looks up at Ross who's scowling, looking bitter, as if Ross hasn't done the same thing: come running when Debbie won't get out of his head.

"I was gonna ask you to kill him," Aaron says, his eyes level, his jaw tense. Ross's lips open, push out a breath, and Aaron catches himself looking down at them and staying there as he speaks. "I know you weren't serious about that deal, but… he's evil. He can't get better, and if you think Pete can't either…"

"That's extreme." Ross flicks his tongue out and Aaron trains his eyes on the spit glistening on Ross's lower lip.

"You have a son though," Aaron says. "It was a stupid idea, anyway. I mean, if we got caught—"

"We won't," Ross says quickly, grabbing Aaron's wrist with his free hand, baby monitor still gripped in his right. 

Aaron finally looks back up in his eyes and there's fire there amongst the deep green and brown flecks burning through his gaze. Aaron feels drunk and mad and so alive when he looks at Ross, his blood boiling, his body buzzing.

"We won't," Ross repeats as he presses Aaron back into the wall and kisses him. It's slow, languid, and desperate in the way Ross's left hand comes up to his cheek and Ross's teeth graze his upper lip and down to softly bite at his tongue and suck it into his mouth. Aaron is enveloped and he forgets Robert for a moment before he remembers Ross is kissing him like this because of the deal. Ross is hard against his thigh because of the plan. Ross drops the baby monitor on the grass and grips his hand into the front of Aaron's hoodie, pulling him ever closer until there's no space between them, and Aaron realizes he's kissing Ross like this because of the deal. He's hard against Ross's thigh because of the plan. 

Aaron makes a breathy moan against Ross's mouth as he pulls away and then surges back in to lick through the seam of Ross's lips and over his teeth, Ross's hand finding the button of his jeans and undoing it, roughly pushing his hand past the zip to palm over Aaron's boxers. There's a hitch in his breath and a deep groan in the back of his throat as Ross's palm drags the fabric of his boxers against his dick, and he becomes all too aware that they're outside in the chilly autumn air, and anyone could flick their light on and look out their window and see them rutting together at Dale View's backdoor.

"Should we be doing this out here?" Aaron asks but still pulls at the waistband of Ross's trackies and slides his hand down between the vee of his hips to slip inside and grab the base of Ross's dick, delighted he isn't wearing underwear.

"Do you care?" Ross says on a bitten back groan as Aaron swirls his thumb around the head of his dick. Aaron grins against Ross's mouth, their teeth bump, and Ross laughs before Aaron bites the sound out of his mouth.

Suddenly, a shrill wail rips through the air and Aaron realizes it's coming from the baby monitor laying abandoned on the ground. He pulls his hand back and scrambles to get Ross's hand out of his jeans and zip them up, but Ross grabs his wrists, stilling his hands. "We haven't been caught," he says against the line of Aaron's jaw, a soft whisper in sharp contrast to the fuzzy cries emitting from the baby monitor. "Just Moses."

"You should go," Aaron says, trying to side step away, taking his hands back and buttoning up his jeans. Ross stops him for a moment, kisses the scowl Aaron feels on his mouth and he melts for that moment. "We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," Aaron says, voice barely there and then turns to walk away. 

When he gets back to the Woolie, he ignores Robert in the kitchen and the bats tearing through his lungs, and jerks off in the shower to stupid, reckless thoughts that make guilt settle in his throat.

* * *

Aaron has half convinced himself to take the bloke he's chatting with to the toilets and give him a blowjob when Ross shows up. He doesn't notice him at first—Bar West is packed, a sea of masks and capes and sweaty men crammed up against each other, body to body, dancing to the _Monster Mash_.

"Gay Christmas, innit?" Ross's voice says behind him, right into his ear, though all he feels is a cold plastic mask pressed to his jaw. 

Aaron rolls his eyes before turning around, leaving the guy he was talking to hanging on whatever dull conversation that had nearly convinced Aaron to shut him up with his mouth and tongue. Behind him is a Ghostface mask, head tilted to the side, waiting. Aaron can vaguely make out Ross's eyes shining through the black screen covering the eye holes, and knows he's smirking.

"Let's get outta here," Aaron yells over the music and grabs one of Ross's gloved hands and pulls him through the dense crowd and out into the crisp Halloween air.

Halloween isn't _really_ a thing in the UK—even with the more recent commercialization—but any reason for a gay to dress up. Also any reason for Ross to wear a Ghostface mask apparently, but he did just shoot Robert in cold blood, so maybe he just wants to be someone else for a little bit. He's whisking himself away to Ibiza on a red eye to avoid the fallout, even without scrutiny falling on him. Because why would it?

Ross is quiet on the drive to the airport. He leaves the mask on, stares ahead, and Aaron keeps glancing over at him knowing he isn't okay but dares not say anything for fear of making it worse. This is his fault. This is his idea. Ross pulled the trigger, but it was Aaron's bullet. Wings of guilt are fluttering in his gut. He feels sick, swamped, screeching bats driving the car to Leeds Bradford instead of his own clammy hands.

He coughs, tries to push out sounds he doesn't know how to form into words, but Ross beats him to it. "Debs knows I'm going to Ibiza," he says, muffled by the Scream pressed against his lips. "Talked to her earlier in the day, before everything. Summat like an alibi."

Aaron just nods, keeps his eyes on the road.

"Long as you've got one though, I reckon we're good," Ross continues. 

"Bartenders know me," Aaron says, his voice weaker than he wants it to be. "Mum knew I was headed to Bar West."

"Everything going to plan then."

"Yeah," Aaron says. "S'all going to plan."

The plan was simple. Aaron gets a taxi into Hotten and spends the evening at Bar West; he doesn't drink much, because Ross will drive in to meet him and Aaron will drive Ross to the airport and take his car back to Emmerdale. Ross can get away with everything in a mask. He doesn't have to be himself or a murderer, he's just another costume in a sea of other costumes. Just another drunken idiot, but Aaron can tell he's stone cold sober.

They're little more than five minutes away from the airport when Ross tears off the mask and throws it in the backseat.

"Pull over," he says, ragged, pulling off his gloves and throwing them at his feet.

"What?" Aaron asks, but he turns and sees the sweat on Ross's brow and the clench of his fists—anxiety, clear.

He makes a swift turn down a dark tree-lined road, and parks haphazardly on the grass at the side of the road. It's not a second after Aaron has turned off the ignition that Ross is opening the door with frantic hands and stumbling outside, wrenching the polyester cloak off and letting it fall into the grass. He's kicking at the fabric on the ground when Aaron finally climbs out of the car, and slowly approaches Ross, unsure if he should just grab him or treat him like a wounded animal.

"Ross," Aaron says, reaching a hand out.

"Don't." It's sharp, and Ross passes Aaron to grasp his hands on the roof of the car and hang his head. His breaths come out hard, and Aaron thinks _fuck it_ and braces himself when he presses a hand between Ross's shoulder blades.

"That's it," he says, quiet, tentative. "Slow, even breaths."

"I'm not having a fucking panic attack, Aaron." His voice is thick and low, a near growl that vibrates against Aaron's hand on his back. 

"Sorry," Aaron says, his hand sliding down Ross's spine and then away.

"Yeah, me too."

"You sure you should be going all the way to Ibiza?" It's a reasonable question, Aaron thinks; maybe Ross should stay closer to home. Go to Manchester instead of somewhere so far away.

"You sure you should be staying?" Ross says instead of a real answer.

"What?"

And Ross is pulling at him, grabbing his biceps and staring him down desperately. "Come with me." Aaron can't do anything but stare back. " _Come with me_ ," he says again, more urgent, his hands travelling up to frame Aaron's face. "I'll buy your ticket, completely pay your way. Just come with me."

"I can't," Aaron says, but he grips Ross's jumper, lets him pull him close. 

" _Please_." This is a part of Ross he hasn't seen before. He's seen Ross furious, cocky, broken, stupid, but never this desperate begging version of him with his fingers pressing into the base of his skull, maneuvering him to lean back against the car and pull him along with him. "You need to get away, don't ya?"

"Robert is _dead_ ," Aaron says by way of an answer and Ross looks devastated, like Aaron's just told him something that he didn't know and that he didn't do, like he's someone who even cares whether Robert lives or dies. "If I disappear now, I'm suspect number one. You know that."

"Aaron." All he says is his name, earnest, grovelling, eyes wet and scared and wanting. Aaron needs this to stop. He needs to get Ross out of here and he needs to get back home. He needs to pretend like nothing has happened, and he needs to make good on his end of the deal. "You're right," Ross says quietly. "Sorry."

Ross keeps him there against the car, warm where their bodies are pressed together, and leans forward pressing his nose into Aaron's jaw. His hands make their way down to Aaron's chest, clenching the fabric of his hoodie and pulling him into him. Aaron moves his hands up behind Ross's head, letting Ross inch them even closer together and mouth over his stubble, stopping just below his lips.

"I lo—I _need_ you," Ross says, his voice a rumble on Aaron's chin. 

Aaron doesn't want to think about what he knows Ross meant to say. He just kisses him.

They fuck on the backseat, Aaron riding Ross, stealing groans and gasps out of each other's mouths until Ross comes with a sharp moan against Aaron's collarbone. Aaron keeps his eyes closed tight and his mouth on Ross's as Ross jerks him off, scared of what he'll see in his eyes and of what might come out of his mouth. He comes against Ross's stomach, his teeth scraping Ross's bottom lip, and his fingers pulling Ross's hair. Aaron kisses him for a while longer as they come down, not letting him talk, or look at him— he can't let Ross be that person around him again. That vulnerable, terrifying person, looking at Aaron as if he loved him. 

He's so sick of people loving him.

* * *

The rest of the night goes by in flickers:

He drives Ross to the airport;

he goes back to Bar West;

he drinks and drinks;

he sees all the missed calls on his phone;

he gets a taxi home, leaving Ross's car parked in town.

"Where've you been?" Marlon says, when he walks in the door—past the police tape and the one asleep cop meant to be keeping watch. "We've all been calling and texting."

"Hotten," Aaron mumbles, crumpling onto the sofa and scrubbing his hands over his face. "Halloween, innit. And also drove Ross to the airport. He's letting me borrow his car for the next couple weeks. Might just scrap it, if I'm honest."

"Look, Aaron." Marlon's hovering awkwardly, wringing his chef's cap in his hands. "There's no easy way to say this—"

"What's with the crime scene out back?" Aaron asks, biting the bullet.

"That's the thing, well…"

"Just spit it out Marlon!" Aaron can feel the effects of the alcohol starting to drift away, and the evening begins to come back to him and with it, anger and fear. "Is Mum okay?"

"I don't—I mean;" and the fear in Aaron increases and he gets up and steps towards Marlon. "Physically she's okay, I promise, but she's at the police station."

"Why?" He advances on Marlon slowly, not wanting to be intimidating but knows he's coming off as such with the red hot anger simmering beneath his skin. This is  _ not _ how it was meant to go.

"Robert was… sort of… shot." Marlon stumbles over his words. Aaron tries to school his face into something other than blind rage, but he can feel it tearing at his gut. "Your mum was there. We think she was walking out the door and saw it happen. They're questioning her now."

"Are they  _ interrogating _ her?" He needs to go to the station, he needs to get Mum out of there, he needs to call Cain and figure out what to do.

"No, no, I don't think so," Marlon is quick to reply, hands frantically waving in front of him. "Bob and Harriet got there pretty quick 'n'all. Some murder mystery Halloween party thing, I don't know, but they heard the shot and ran over. Couldn't find a gun or owt."

The gun is hidden in Ross's glove compartment. Aaron is going to get rid of it once he goes back into town to retrieve the car. Of course they couldn't find a gun. They'll never find the gun. Ross shot Robert.  _ Aaron _ killed Robert and no one will ever find out. 

Aaron realizes too late that he's crying, barely able to breathe by the time he weakly croaks out, "And Robert?"

Marlon gives him a sympathetic look. An unbearably patronizing sympathetic look that makes Aaron recoil and want to scream not to look at him like that, that Robert means nothing to him, that he just needs to know what happened; but he can't talk. 

"He's alive." The words come like a punch to Aaron's gut. "He's in a coma, but I hear he's stable after they operated. Vic and that lot are at the hospital still. So I'm here. Waiting for you to show up. April's at Zak and Lisa's."

All Aaron has registered is  _ he's alive _ . 

_ He's alive he's alive he's alive.  _

He hears the flap of bat wings, feels them against his skin as he stumbles back to fall onto the sofa. His heart feels like it might beat out of his chest with equal parts fury, guilt, and relief.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on twitter: [@aarondingle420](https://twitter.com/aarondingle420)


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